Something Poorly Named
by Camfield
Summary: On work, pictures and perceptions.


Just something I had on the computer. Might as well toss it out there.

I don't own Calvin & Hobbes.

* * *

><p>It had always the same, and Calvin had thought he'd been sick of it.<p>

For the past 12 years he had appeased 'the man' by going to school, incidents notwithstanding, and now he was going to be free. Hell, he'd already drawn mustaches and devil horns on every single picture in his yearbook!

Now, with finals week the only thing keeping him from being school free Calvin suddenly felt… sad.

Everything was changing. Susie had been accepted into an Ivy League college far away from their piss poor community one, Moe had jumped at the chance to join the military and was leaving for boot camp the day after class ended and Calvin… Well sufficed to say Calvin hadn't thought about what he was going to do over the summer, much less what he planned to do for the rest of his life.

With a thump Calvin sat down on his bed. He hadn't meant to be the only one left, but he was and it hurt. Gone were the days where he'd romped in the forest, created masterpieces with the Earth's bounty or even held a meeting of G.R.O.S.S. The slowly encroaching responsibilities of adulthood had taken over his life, just like they had taken over the lives of each and every teenager before him.

He was stuck in a rut. With a crappy summer job lined up courtesy of his dad and no ambition to even think about what lie beyond. Calvin had lost his spark, and that made him immeasurably sad.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Watterson, will you please show the new employees what they will be doing for us today?"<p>

Calvin stopped just short of rolling his eyes. He nodded curtly and swept his gaze over the new batch of high school students that had been forced into his care by weary parents. Even after 5 years of this he still hated the cattle call that served as the hiring/training process. Half of these kids wouldn't make it past the end of the week, and that was how the boss wanted it.

"Okay kiddies, mouths shut and ears open. You are now a part of the happy family of minimum wage capitalism. This is one of the easiest jobs you're gonna find, but your intelligence will never respect you again. Kapeesh?"

It was the same speech every time, and it still never failed to produce what Calvin had come to see as his only entertainment. The faces ranged from concern to outright horror, with a dash of dubiousness rubbed in the side. It was really what kept Calvin from going insane from sheer boredom.

"This is how it works. Every day you come in, you get a key. You use that key to open the assigned locker and in it you will find your costume for the day. You put on the costume and report to me and I send you on your merry way to entertain children, and by entertain children I mean that you will be hit, tugged on, thrown at, laughed at and otherwise humiliated. You are NOT to talk, AT ALL. Keep your mouth shut and you'll keep your job."

The horrified looks were growing by the second as Calvin elaborated on just how humiliating things could be.

"Costumes are 'washed'", Calvin used air quotes here, "once a week. If your assigned costume isn't in the laundry room, it doesn't get washed until the next week. Who wants to guess how that costume will smell with a week's worth of sweat in it?"

Here a petite girl with brown hair and a faintly disgusted expression raised her hand.

"Why don't they get washed once a day then?"

Calvin flipped his hands, "Water cost, soap cost, wear on the costume… You guys are lucky we wash them once a week, it used to be once a MONTH." He cackled with glee at the upturned noses.

Once he had completely defeated the new recruits, he turned them over to the secretary for safekeeping. His job was just to beat the fight out of them, and it was something that he not only did well, but enjoyed doing.

!~_~_~_~_~_~!

As he sat on his bed that night, Calvin wondered how he'd lost 5 years of his life to this garbage. He had started out as one of those mindless recruits, and had worked his way up to a mindless manager. It was altogether too unsettling in his book.

Where were the comics he'd drawn about his adventures! Where was the spark that had kept him creative all those years?

Calvin flopped backwards, knocking Hobbes off his perch on the pillow into Calvin's shoulder. He picked Hobbes up and held him over his face.

He couldn't really remember when Hobbes had stopped talking to him. He vaguely remembered spending less and less time at home as he got old enough to hang out at the arcade or mall, but he couldn't remember when he'd last talked to Hobbes directly even. Just like he'd gradually gotten used to being prodded by children while in a Snoopy costume, Calvin guessed he'd just gradually fallen out of the habit of telling Hobbes everything.

Was it silly to want Hobbes back? Part of his childhood that had kept him (in)sane all these years, that had been his closest friend of all time. Hobbes had never once really judged him, not like the humans who called themselves Calvin's friends. Was it because Calvin had just imagined Hobbes? You didn't tend to really want to hurt yourself unless you had problems, and while Calvin had had his fair share of bull crap he'd never once wanted to hurt himself.

Still holding Hobbes Calvin let his arm drop to the mattress. He looked around his room before exhaling loudly. He really needed to get his own place. 23 and still living with Mom and Dad was embarrassing really, especially for someone who wasn't going to college. He had a fair amount saved up from work, he'd be alright Calvin supposed.

His computer beeped and Calvin pushed himself up and over to the machine. It was an email, from some address he'd never seen before. Calvin grunted and hit the delete key without even opening it; spam was a bitch these days.

He was just about to go back to bed when the computer beeped again. It was another email from the same address as before.

Calvin's eyebrows scrunched up. That was a little weird, considering no one outside of work knew this email address and it was mainly used for inter-office communication.

Blowing out a sigh, Calvin opened the email and stopped. It was… It was a picture of him and Hobbes.

But not just a picture of him and a stuffed tiger, it was a picture of him and HOBBES. People hadn't understood the distinction before, but Hobbes was a real living breathing tiger to Calvin, and that was what he remembered.

This though, he wasn't sure what do to. Whenever he'd seen pictures of his childhood before, Hobbes had been that stuffed tiger he'd dragged around everywhere. This was most definitely a picture of the living breathing Hobbes.

Calvin didn't even know he was crying until the drops hit his hands. They were curled up into fists on his thighs and every time a teardrop hit it felt like they clenched tighter and tighter.

How could he have forgotten? How could he have turned his back on his best friend?

How could his best friend have turned his back on him?

Calvin's quiet sobs were only interrupted by the occasional hiccup. His head eventually cradled in his hands as he fought to stop the seemingly endless tears. He didn't even notice the second pair of hands that stroked his hair, didn't notice when he was guided to the bed and lovingly tucked in.

He didn't notice the deep rumble that watched over his sleep that night.

* * *

><p>Calvin woke refreshed in a way that he hadn't had in a long time. He'd needed to cry, he supposed. It had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to break down that much.<p>

As he busied himself with the small things one needs to be ready for work Calvin thought about the email last night. It had been… incredible to see Hobbes like that again, and he felt like he would give anything to see him again.

Mind lost in remembrance, the new employees found themselves faced with a manager that had a soft, faraway smile on his face the entire day. It was so completely different from the previous day that they were edgy, confused and utterly off kilter, and Calvin was so out of it that he didn't even notice.

In fact, Calvin couldn't have told you how he got home that night. He honestly didn't remember driving, or walking up the stairs, just that he was on his computer chair and starting to get nervous about the picture in the email.

Nervous! Calvin scoffed at himself, because of a silly picture from someone he didn't know.

But… Hobbes. Hobbes, who had tackled him every day when he had gotten back from school, who had gone on huge adventures with Calvin to outer space and who had eaten every single can of tuna in the house several times over. HOBBES. Hobbes, who was Calvin's best friend.

Hobbes, who had stood by Calvin even as Calvin shared less and less of his life with him. Hobbes, who had gone silent because his best friend didn't need him anymore.

Hobbes Hobbes ...

Calvin woke up in his computer chair, neck cracking as he rolled it forward from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in. On his monitor there was that little alert that meant new mail and Calvin later would deny the intensity he used in lunging forward to open it.

It was another picture of HOBBES, this one taken some time later in the elementary school years.

Calvin was propped up against the tiger on his bed, fast asleep. A comic in one hand, Hobbes fur in the other while the tiger's tail was wrapped around his body and one paw rested on his head.

Calvin again felt tears dripping onto his hands. He impatiently pushed them away even as they continued to roll down his face. He was 23 right? Not a bleeding child who cried over spilt milk, as it were.

But, Calvin really didn't know how to stop the tears. They just poured out of him like a storm, and refused to be quelled before they'd run their course. He staggered over to the bed and curled up into a ball on the covers, eyes and nose dripping as his guilt washed over him in waves.

Weren't you supposed to grow out of stuffed animals and imaginary friends? That was what everyone said, what all normal, well adjusted adults did. They traded imaginary relationships for real relationships, Susie had said.

Except, when your friend was real, what then? Didn't these pictures prove that Hobbes was real?

Calvin's breath hitched as he became aware of the soothing rumble that had begun. Something stroking his hair with infinite care just as it had last night.

He started shivering uncontrollably, afraid to move or look or speak or do ANYTHING that might make that wonderful rumble and gentle hands go away. Calvin just pressed into whatever pressure he could find, eyes screwed tight as he felt the barest touch of fur on the back of his neck.

His voice failed him, air the only thing his body was allowing in or out of his mouth. It was too much and not enough and Calvin didn't know what he was going to do if it went away now. Not now.

Not now.

He managed to flip himself and found his nose pressed into soft, warm fur. Eyes still shut tight he buried his face into the silky strands until he almost couldn't breathe. His arm came up jerkily, hesitantly before wrapping itself around that lean body he remembered.

"Hobbes!" It was more of a sob than anything else, and once he'd said it he couldn't stop.

"…"

A long tongue swiped his hair as Calvin cried into his friend's stomach. It had been so long, and no one really had understood Calvin but Hobbes and Calvin hadn't wanted to write or draw or do ANYTHING without Hobbes but he just hadn't thought about that and he'd let his friend think he wasn't wanted and it hadn't been FAIR!

It was a while before Calvin's sobs quieted and the only sound left was Hobbes rumble-purr. Calvin stroked any and all the fur he could reach, hands never stilling in their quest to prove to him that this was real, not just some trick of the mind.

"I'm sorry Hobbes. I never meant to leave you behind."

The stroking stopped for a second.

"It was hard. I'd fall asleep and the next time I woke up you were different again."

Calvin finally pulled himself up to look at his old friend. Hobbes was still as Calvin's eyes took him in for the first time in years.

"You look good." Calvin finally said.

Hobbes gave him a dirty look. "I'm glad my grooming meets your approval."

"I mean, I guess I didn't know if you would grow up with me or not, you know? You look… Oh I dunno. You.. you just look good Hobbes."

Hobbes knocked Calvin on the head with the pillow.

"Welcome back Calvin."


End file.
